


and here you are

by slackeuse



Series: forever, forever [1]
Category: JBJ (Band), Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: I promise there is fluff, M/M, Post-College AU, also domestic 2park aptly describes this, biggest happy ending of all time istg, fast burn and slow burn all in one, it should be mostly fluff like 99 percent fluff, side jinhwi, teacher!jihoon, there are puppies, this is my attempt at redemption tbh, vet!woojin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-05 07:12:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 20,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12185358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slackeuse/pseuds/slackeuse
Summary: Park Jihoon has the most terrible week ever, except he meets Park Woojin.





	1. a fire

**Author's Note:**

> set in Seattle bc that's where I like writing lol they're also about 25 at this point

if you were born with  
the weakness to fall  
you were born with  
the strength to rise  
\- rupi kaur

 

Park Jihoon hates his best friend’s roommates, but he fucking loves their dogs. They’re the type of people who can afford a million-dollar house because their parents basically run a cult. Not like a real cult but like the type of religious movement that went off the deep end enough to cause some alarm but somehow people still throw their money at it. But they’re generally nice people. And their house is gorgeous. Donghan lives in the basement for half the cost of a normal room. It’s huge as fuck, he has his own bathroom, and they let him park his motorcycle in the garage.

So they’re tolerable. Mostly.

Their dogs, though, are beautiful and amazing. They’re a brother-sister duo of Australian Shepherds. The sister, Beauvoir, is fiercely independent and rarely takes no for an answer. Jihoon is happy to be the one to tell her yes. The brother, Sartre, is scared of almost everything. When something scares him, he looks for someone’s lap to shiver on. Jihoon is happy to be that lap.

So when Donghan’s roommates decided to dabble in that breeding thing, there is nothing more that Jihoon wants to do than help take care of Beauvoir’s pups. He goes right to Donghan’s house after work to clean up after them. He takes them on walks. He watches them play at the park.

“You should probably start setting some boundaries,” Donghan says, sitting next to him in the grass. “They’re not great people. They’ll take advantage of how willing you are to do anything for their dogs.”

Jihoon watches three puppies pile on top of Sartre. “Maybe I’m okay being taken advantage of? Do you think they might just let me have one at the end for all my hard work raising their puppies?”

“No, not unless you want to pay them. And your apartment doesn’t even allow dogs.”

“I’d just move. I mean, I’ve definitely put in enough hours to get one for free, right? It can’t be too far off they’d gift me one. They’re bonded to me. They love me. It’s almost as cruel to separate them from Beauvoir as it is to separate them from me.”

“Two things,” Donghan says, pining Jihoon with a look. “One, they are horrible people. I doubt they’ve actually realized how much time you’ve put into helping them out. It’s beyond their capacities as human beings to pay that much attention to someone else. Trust me. And two, wow, you are definitely exaggerating your worth to these puppies.”

Jihoon runs a hand through his hair. “Maybe I am, but still. They love me. You can’t deny that.” And at that moment, one of the smallest puppies climbs up into Jihoon’s lap and curls into a small ball. “See.”

Donghan shakes his head. “Yeah, I can see.” His phone dings with a new text message. “This is like the tenth one in the last five minutes. What do they want.” He digs his cell out of his pocket, then reads the message. He scrunches his nose and turns to Jihoon.

“What is it?”

“My roommate’s asking if you’re any good with cars,” he says, but he’s already tapping out a reply. “You are most definitely not. Wonder what she’s getting herself into now.”

“Ask.” Jihoon starts scratching the pup in his lap behind the ears. “I wouldn’t trust her as far as one of these pups could drag her.”

Donghan nods. “Car problems, probably? And she’d be stupid to work on it herself. Maybe we should head back and supervise.”

“It’ll take me a few to get them all on a leash and herded toward the house. You want to just head over without me?”

“Alright.” Donghan gives Jihoon a quick hug, and then he pops up to his feet and heads to the house, which is only a few blocks away.

Jihoon starts with the pup on his lap, then tells Sartre and Beauvoir it’s time to go. They manage to herd over a few puppies for Jihoon to leash, and the other three who’ve wandered off exploring, he has to chase down. Then he has to parade them through the park and down the street.

Two blocks away, he smells smoke.

One block away, he sees it billowing into the darkening sky.

The house is on fire. Jihoon has no fucking idea what to do. There are people running. There are sirens growing louder. The night is too hot and all Jihoon can think about is where’s Donghan? Where was he when the fire started? Was he in the house? Is he still in the house? He wants to search for him, but the dogs are barking or whining or trying to get him to pick them up because they’re just as scared as he is and he can’t bring them any closer to the smoke.

His phone rings, and he takes longer than he should to answer it because his hands are shaking and his palms are sweaty. He doesn’t look at who it is.

“Donghan?”

“Hey, sorry,” Donghan says. Then Jihoon notices him walking toward him, but Donghan hasn't noticed him yet. “I just got done talking with a fireman. Where are you?”

“Straight ahead,” Jihoon answers, his voice shaking.

Donghan looks up, and their eyes meet. Neither of them smile. Jihoon is rooted to the sidewalk as Donghan jogs over to him and then envelops him in a hug, pulling him into his larger frame. Jihoon just melts into him, hugging him as close as he can, because he’s pretty sure he almost just lost his best friend.

“You’re not crying,” Donghan says when they’ve probably been hugging for far too long.

He hugs Donghan even closer, and Donghan tucks his head under his chin. “You know I don’t cry.”

“I was hoping you’d cry for me, though.”

“You’re such a dick sometimes.” Jihoon gives him one last squeeze. “Where are your roommates? Wait—no. What the fuck happened?”

“My roommate decided to work on her car, but as it was getting dark, she didn’t have enough light.” Although Jihoon has moved out of the hug, Donghan steps into it again. He bows his head and rests his forehead on Jihoon’s shoulder. “Instead of getting a flash light, she decided to use a candle. That’s about when I showed up. And then it only took one spark and there was already all this gas everywhere and holy shit it happened so fast. I managed to pull her out from under the car in time, but the house was on fire like two seconds later, and all we could do was watch.”

Jihoon pulls him into another hug. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“And the dogs are okay,” Donghan adds for him, a smile folded into his tone.

“They were with me so they were always going to be okay.” Jihoon gives Donghan a pat on the back. “So I’m assuming you’re staying with me. Do your roommates know what the fuck they’re doing with their dogs…?”

“They’ll probably be staying at a hotel or something. Let me call them? Here’s my keys if you want to start herding the pups over to where I parked." Donghan hisses as he pulls away from Jihoon to make the call. "God, and my bike. My fucking bike.”

With his keys in his hand, Jihoon makes his way to Donghan’s car. The first tear that slides down his cheek surprises him because it’s true, he doesn’t cry. But he also doesn’t think he almost lost his best friend every day. He covers his mouth with his hand to stifle a sob. By the time he’s in Donghan’s car with all the pups, he can’t stop his tears but there are so many tongues trying to console him that he ends up in a fit of laughter that quells his sadness enough that when Donghan finally opens the driver’s side door, Jihoon’s face is dry.

“You’re still not crying,” Donghan says with a smirk as he starts up the car.

“You know I’d never.” At least, he’d never cry in front of someone else. No one needs to see his weaknesses. Those are for him to know, no one else, not even his best friend.

Donghan pokes Jihoon’s bare forehead with his index finger. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry it took me so long. They weren’t picking up, but eventually one of them did. They said it’d be great if we could take the dogs for a few. Apparently they have a check-in tomorrow at the vet. They can run over and grab them and take them, but if you have time…”

“Yeah, I can do it. I can take some time off work. I’ve got a lot of vacation pay.” Jihoon shrugs, then looks over at Beauvoir and Sartre. “Did you hear that? You’re coming over to my place for a while. You’ll have to be quiet though. Technically I’m not supposed to have you over.”

Sartre licks his face, though Beauvoir gives him a look that seems to say _you aren’t in control of me, I’ll be loud if I want_.

“This’ll be fun,” Donghan says, pulling into the street and heading toward Jihoon’s place. “We haven’t lived together since college.”

“I didn’t imagine we’d ever live in a studio together with six puppies and two dogs.”

“It’ll still be fun.”

It's not fun. Jihoon and Donghan have to wake up every two hours to take at least one of the puppies to the bathroom three stories down. They whine and bark, but they’re mostly potty trained or they’re trying to be considerate of the situation and the carpet in Jihoon’s place.

It’s not a surprise that by the time Jihoon wakes up, there’s a note on his door from management that they know he has dogs in his place and they have to leave before the day’s up. Jihoon calls and tries to explain the situation, but apparently so many people complained that they don’t give a shit.

Jihoon texts Donghan about it before he heads out to take the pups to the vet. He tells Beauvoir and Sartre he’ll be back soon, then manages to get all the pups to his car in one piece. Donghan’s roommates go to a community clinic to cut down on costs—and ensure their profits, Jihoon suspects—so when he arrives, he’s told there’s a forty-minute wait by the cute vet tech.

Except forty minutes is more like two hours, and the pups are at their absolute limit and Jihoon is ready to leave and just come back in the morning so he can be the first appointment. Of course, that’s when the cute vet tech steps out of one of the rooms and calls his name.

“Park Jihoon?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Jihoon gathers up some of the slower pups into his arms and asks the others to follow him, still on-leash.

The vet tech seems to be a little stiff when he moves out of the way to let Jihoon and his pack through the door and into the room. Maybe he’s counting how many puppies Jihoon has with him and wondering why the fuck he has so many of them.

“I’m sorry for the wait,” the vet tech says, closing the door once all the bodies meant to be in the small room are inside. “We had a little emergency. What’re we here for today?”

“I—” Jihoon takes a seat in one of the plastic chairs and situates the two slow puppies he picked up into his lap, and he releases a long breath. “A check-up.”

The vet tech’s eyebrows dip in concern for a moment, but he straightens his shoulders. “A check-up is easy enough. I can do that for you pretty quick and then you can head out. How old are they? Which shots have they had…?”

“Um.” Jihoon looks down at the pups in his lap. “I have no idea.” He flashes back to when he checked in, and now realizes all the paperwork he did means that Donghan’s stupid roommates have never been here before. They sent him to a new vet, probably, because they wanted to pay the least amount possible while they weren’t responsible for the pups.

“Oh. That’s. Fine? Have they been to the vet yet?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure they’ve been somewhere. Sorry. They’re not mine. It’s a long story.” There’s a pressure in his chest that’s keeping his head down.

The vet tech takes a seat on the ground and starts letting the dogs get familiar with his scent, holding out his hands low so they’re not intimidated or scared. “I’ve got some time.”

Normally, Jihoon wouldn’t even imagine telling a stranger about his life, but the words come out and he doesn’t even think about what the fact that this vet tech probably offered to listen but didn’t even mean it.

“They’re the puppies of my best friend’s roomate’s dog. She’s back at my place. She’s really great. Her name is Beauvoir, named after—”

“Simone de Beauvoir?”

“Yeah. And her brother’s name is Sartre.”

“That’s cute. Do these guys have names?”

“So my best friend’s roommates are dicks. Since they’re selling them, they decided not to give them names.”

“Hi, Nameless #1.” The vet tech picks up one of the pups who’s taking the most liking to him and places him on his lap. He starts feeling around the dog’s body, looks in his ears, feels his stomach. “So why’re you taking care of them? There’s six. That’s got to be a handful.”

When Jihoon finally looks at the vet tech, their eyes meet. He’s cute. And all of his attention is pinned on Jihoon in a way that makes him incredibly self-aware. Did he brush his hair this morning? Fuck. No, he didn’t. He didn’t wear his good pair of jeans. He didn’t wear his favorite sweatshirt. He didn’t wear his lucky underwear. He looks a fucking mess and this cute as fuck vet tech is looking at him like he’s the only person he’s ever wanted to listen to.

“I—um. There was a fire.”

The vet tech’s eyes widen. “Whoa.” He has three puppies on his lap now, but he gives Jihoon a proper once over, as if assessing him for damage. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’m fine. I was at the park with these pups. They—they probably saved my life?” Because until now Jihoon had refused to dwell on where he and Donghan would’ve been if they hadn’t been at the park. Probably in the basement. Or in the garage, which was the first to go up in flames. Where the dogs were. His eyes burn. There was so much he could've lost. He could've lost his entire world. “Just my best friend’s roommate was working on her car with an open flame and, well, that never ends well, does it?”

“Yeah, no.”

“And we weren’t there to stop her, but we also then weren’t there for the fire. So I’m not sure what’s better? But, yeah, that’s why I have the dogs. Because I love them and I couldn’t imagine where they would go. To a hotel? Or just go home with me, to a place they’ve been before?”

“It’s obvious you love these kids.” The vet tech gives him a little smile. His teeth are bright, and he has a snaggletooth. Suddenly, he looks familiar. Too familiar. “And they’re lucky to have you. But, really, are you okay?”

Jihoon grasps at the corners of his memory of the vet tech’s face, his chiseled jaw, his snaggletooth, his steady gaze.

“Jihoon?” the vet tech asks when Jihoon has clearly taken too long trying to remember where he may have met him before.

The name comes to him out of nowhere. “Woojin.”

He remembers freshman year, rooming with Donghan. Woojin was in the room across from theirs. They’d started off on the wrong foot at first because Woojin and his roommate were both on the dance team and thought practicing at midnight during midterms was a Good Idea. Jihoon had lost rock-paper-scissors with Donghan, so he had been the one to knock on their door and tell them to cut it out. Except they hadn’t. Jihoon had lost track of how many elevator doors he closed on Woojin and how many he purposefully passed before Woojin was already on it.

Then Woojin and Jihoon had been in the same class winter quarter, put into the same group with two other students who were, for the most part, completely dead weight. At first, they’d both been happy to let the other take on all the work and burn trying to get a good grade. But when they realized how dire the situation was, they had to set aside their differences. Then there were a lot of parties and drunken nights and bad decisions.

Especially the night Woojin had told him he would be transferring away.

Woojin lifts an eyebrow. “Did you just recognize me. Really.”

“You’re taller.”

“So are you? How the fuck could the centimeters I grew be something that’d make me unrecognizable for—how long have you been waiting since I checked you in?”

“Two hours. That’s a lot fucking time to make someone with six puppies to wait. Especially someone with a face like mine.”

“It’s a community clinic. Everyone waits. That’s how it works. That’s how we keep prices down. Which you’ll thank me for when I ring you up. Are your friend’s roommates going to pay you back?”

Jihoon massages his temples. “I don’t know. I hope so. God. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Well, you knew to come here.”

“They told me to come here.” 

“Wait.” Woojin has a snarl on his face. “They told you to come here when they’ve never taken their dogs here before? We don’t have their chart.” Then he looks at Jihoon. “Which is fine. Completely fine. Just tell me what you know. I can call around and see if I can find their vet.”

“I can call them. I can get the number from Donghan.”

“Donghan? You two are still friends? That’s amazing. I can’t believe he still puts up with you.”

“And yet here you are, putting up with me as well, acting so concerned.”

“You were in a fire. Of course, I’m concerned. They were Donghan's roommates? Is Donghan okay?”

"Yeah. He's okay." Jihoon presses his palms over his eyes. “Park Woojin, what do I do? I have six puppies, two dogs, and a best friend all living in my tiny studio that, for the record, doesn’t allow dogs at all or guests for more than three nights. They already told me I had to get rid of the dogs. I can’t kick them out.”

“Their owners can’t take them?”

“Sure, but what hotel is going to let them keep that many dogs in their room? And what kind of life is that? They’ll be miserable. I can’t do that to them.”

“Hey.” Woojin’s hands are on Jihoon’s knees.

When Jihoon removes his hands from his face, he notices Woojin has moved so he’s sitting in front of him. There are now four dogs trying to pile onto his lap and/or crawl up his arm or his back or his chest so they can lick his face.

“You can bring them to my house,” Woojin says. “I’ve got a one-bedroom, dogs allowed, guests allowed, whatever I want allowed because it’s above this rich older couple’s garage and they’re hard of hearing. And also very nice. Is the number you wrote down on the forms your cell?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll text you my address. Get ahold of their owners, see what shots they need. I’ll bring home what they need. I can take care of them for a while if you’re available for potty breaks and walks.”

Jihoon nods. “I took the week off. I can do everything, I just can’t do it at my place.”

“Well, now you have a place for them to stay. We’ll figure this out. Now answer me one more time, are you okay? Because you look like you didn’t sleep and I can tell you’ve been crying and you look like you could cry any second.”

Silence stretches between them, and the longer it lasts, the more Jihoon swears at Woojin in his head. Why is he still so good at reading him? Neither of them were that good at keeping in contact after Woojin transferred. They were both too busy with school. So their friendship sort of faded away as quickly as it’d started. Seeing Woojin today is the last thing Jihoon expected. Feeling like they had never once stop being friends after six years is even more unexpected.

“You didn’t tell me you’d moved back,” Jihoon says.

That makes Woojin pause. He squeezes Jihoon’s knees for a second, then realizes where his hands are and then slowly extracts them. “I—well. I just moved back like two months ago. And I spent a month wildly applying to jobs. My life is still in boxes. So. Yeah. I was waiting until I had shit under control to see if you were still here. I’m… glad you are? Still here?”

He finally looks up.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Jihoon says, and it comes out a little quiet. As if it’s a secret. Maybe it is. After all, Jihoon couldn’t admit to himself that he’d been in love with Park Woojin until it’d been too late.

“So.” Woojin stands. “I’m going to kick you out now. I’ll text you my address. I’ll be getting off work in about two hours. It’ll take me like thirty minutes to get home. And then I’m going to ask you one more time if you’re okay before letting it go. All you need to do is be at my house sometime after I’m home and figure out what shots they need. Got it?”

“Yeah. You can stop talking to me like I’m twelve now.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You were.” Jihoon drops off the two pups on his lap onto the floor and stands.

Woojin shoos the four pups on his lap and stands. “I said I _wasn’t_.”

“I’m like two seconds away from punching you.”

“Punch me then. It won’t hurt.”

“You seriously haven’t changed.” He taps his fist against Woojin’s stomach. Why is it so fucking hard?

“See, that didn’t hurt at all. It almost seems like you’d rather hug me instead, the way you’re lingering. Does Park Jihoon want a hug? Come here.” Woojin moves in slow enough that if Jihoon hadn’t wanted the hug, he could’ve shrugged Woojin off. And he probably would’ve if the last twenty-four hours hadn’t almost killed his best friend.

But Donghan hadn’t died.

And Woojin hadn’t wanted to transfer.

Jihoon hugs Woojin back, wraps his arms around his waist and pulls him closer than he should but he just feels like he needs to feel that Woojin is real. He’s real and exists and he’s in his arms.

“You’re a dick,” Jihoon says.

“You’re welcome.”

“My number didn’t change.”

Woojin pulls back. “What? But you never—”

“Nope. Never texted you back. Whoops. I’ll see you later.”  

Jihoon gives Woojin his most charming smile, and leaves the small exam room with his six puppies—two of which are biting their leashes as if they’re walking themselves—through the lobby and back to his car.

Woojin’s text comes in faster than he can start his engine.

He tells himself, _Do not fall for Park Woojin again,_ in a mantra as he drives home. He repeats it as takes all the dogs on a long walk. He repeats it as he packs up all their stuff. He repeats it as he texts Donghan to ask his roommates what shots the pups need next. He repeats it as he finally drives over to Woojin’s place.

When Woojin opens the door, he’s just showered, his hair’s still wet, his skin is glistening, and his cheeks are a little flushed. “Good timing,” he says and smiles.

“I always have good timing. Are you going to let me in?”

Woojin doesn’t move aside, though. Instead, he opens his arms again, and the next thing Jihoon knows, he’s walked right into his embrace. God, he smells good.

“Are you okay, now?” Woojin asks into Jihoon’s hair.

Jihoon just sighs. “I’m always okay.” Then he peels away from Woojin and leads eight dogs into Woojin’s apartment. “What’s for dinner?”

Woojin chuckles. "Looks like you haven't changed, either."

 

 

⧖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be a oneshot, but it took a life of its own and now it'll be a chaptered thing that I guess people will have to put up with in the interim. i'm back in school as well so updates might be a little slow. i'll do my best!


	2. a key

the way they  
leave  
tells you  
everything  
_answers_  - rupi kaur

 

 

When Jihoon steps into Woojin’s place, the first thing he notices is that Woojin wasn’t lying about living out of boxes. He has a couch, but his coffee table is two boxes labeled BOOKS. He has a TV but it’s setting on a bunch of boxes that say LIVING ROOM on them. His place doesn’t have a dining room space, but he has a few bar stools and an island in his kitchen, but there’s a box on each of those labeled KITCHEN.

“You’re living like this?” Jihoon asks, kneeling as Woojin closes the door behind him and unleashing the pups. Instantly, Beauvoir is leading around her more brave pumps around the place, sniffing corners and boxes and hoping they’ll get lucky with a crumb or two.

They won’t, of course, because Jihoon knows Woojin is too clean for that.

“Barely,” Woojin groans. “I had two jobs up until last week because I took the first thing I got and then I was offered a job at the clinic like a week later. So I put in my two week notice and just had to tough it out. Made some nice money though.”

Jihoon isn’t sure what to say. Aren’t they being too casual? He’s acting like Jihoon drops by all the time and they just need to catch up quickly when instead they have years and years and years to make up for. But before they even get that far, shouldn’t they talk? About what happened at Woojin’s goodbye party?

“Nothing better than money,” Jihoon says because he can’t think of anything else to say. “Did you eat already?”

“No. Did it sound like I had time to eat?”

“I don’t know your life.” Jihoon is aware that comes out a little harsher than he’d intended.

Woojin doesn’t flinch. Instead, he returns the tone. “And I don’t know yours.”

Their eyes meet, and silence stretches in the meter of distance between them. An apology sits on the tip of Jihoon’s tongue, but it mingles with a bitterness in his throat that surprises him. He hadn’t realized he was mad that Woojin had left even though he knows Woojin hadn’t wanted to. He hadn’t had a choice about the transfer. Jihoon didn’t even blame him for going.

Maybe Jihoon had reserved some hope that Woojin would’ve found a way to stay, that maybe he’d walk into his dorm room sophomore year and Woojin would be in the room across from his still, and the secrets they’d whispered in their each other’s ears that night would actually mean something.

Then again, he was supposed to be over it.

So what the fuck is this bitterness for?

And what the fuck does Woojin have to be angry about?

“Do you like my face that much?” Jihoon says, lifting an eyebrow to ease the tension growing between them. “You can take a picture.”

Woojin scoffs. “You were staring first.”

“Pretty sure you started staring before I did. Let’s order out? I doubt you have any food here if your place looks like this and you’ve been working two jobs. Otherwise, I’d make you dinner.”

That makes Woojin pause. “You mean you’d attempt to poison the man who’s saving your ass?”

“At least it’s a nice ass. And I’m a good cook. You know how much I like to eat. I’d starve if I didn’t know how to cook.”

Woojin chuckles, then he sighs in a way that even makes his shoulders drop a few centimeters. “There’s a Thai restaurant that delivers pretty close. Cheap, too. I’ve got a menu. I circled what I usually get. If you want to order, I can set up a space to look at your pups.”

Although it feels oddly domestic, Jihoon orders for both of them and gives Woojin’s address. He helps sanitize a space on the kitchen counter for Woojin to examine the pups and give them shots. Woojin gives Jihoon instructions to help, brow furrowed with concentration. When he draws the vaccine into the shots, he squints and bites his tongue between his teeth so his snaggletooth shows.

“Why do you keep watching me do this,” Woojin asks when he loads up his last shot for the last puppy. “It’s not that exciting. It’s not even sexy.”

“Agreed.”

Woojin gives him a look.

“You said it, not me.”

Woojin rolls his eyes, then gets the last vaccination over with. He takes off his gloves and throws the shot into the trash with the others. “All done. They’re up-to-date and they all seem to be doing great. All they’re missing now are names. I know that their owners don’t want to give them names, but why haven’t you?”

Jihoon picks up the pup from the counter and sets him on the floor. “I don’t want to get too attached.” He hopes the way his breath hitched at the end goes unnoticed by Woojin.

Except Woojin puts a hand on his shoulder, though briefly, and offers Jihoon a pressed smile—sympathetic. “Then I guess they’re Nameless #1-6 for now. Do you know how long you’re going to keep them?”

“Until Donghan's roommates find a place to stay. Their place was huge, though, and there aren’t a lot of places available to rent that’s comparable. So their insurance company said it might take up to a month. But there’s no way I’d let them crash here that long—”

“It’s fine if they do.” Woojin shrugs. “I could probably bring them into work. You only took this week off, right? Not a big deal.”

Jihoon wants to ask why it wouldn’t be a big deal—why Woojin would be this nice, be this accommodating—but he doesn’t want to know the answer. Because he’s not supposed to fall in love with Woojin again.

The food comes, and while Woojin opens boxes and puts out plates and gets them some beer, Jihoon prepares food for the puppies. Before they eat, they take the puppies potty together, and somehow they end up catching each other up on life post-transfer.

“I’ll be honest,” Woojin says, hands in the pockets of his black sweatpants, “the first year was fucking hard. I wanted to have a hard time because I was hoping my dad would let me transfer back, but that’s obviously not what happened.”

Jihoon tries not to hear the implication that if he could’ve come back, he would’ve. “Yeah, I can imagine how you were. Probably shut yourself in your dorm, didn’t talk to your roommate, didn’t join the dance team, and made sure to look like you were angry in all of your classes so no one would get the impression you wanted to make friends.”

Although Woojin’s lip curls, he nods. “My roommate was persistent though. He gave me a good kick in the ass spring quarter.”

“Wow, I like this dude already.”

“You would, actually.” He bends down to give one of the puppies a treat after doing her business. “He’s going to visit in a few months. You want to meet him?”

“Sure,” Jihoon answers without thinking, but he realizes as soon as he says it that somehow they’re exactly where they were before Woojin left. He swallows against the urge to backtrack, to create a way for him to get out of meeting Woojin’s sophomore year roommate, to leave himself a way to fade out of Woojin’s life as quickly as possible.

Woojin smiles, and Jihoon melts a little. “I spent a lot of time talking about you,” Woojin says, averting his gaze, “so I’m sure once I tell him we met by accident, I would bet my entire life savings he’d demand to meet you anyway. He texts me every fucking day about whether I’ve tried to find you or not.”

Because Jihoon has no idea what to say to that, he adds, “Donghan wants to meet up with you, too. He thought I was fucking with him when I told him you were the vet tech.” At least now it sounds casual—of course their friends want to meet their other friends. That’s normal.

There’s no way Woojin talked about Jihoon to his roommate other than reminiscing about their friendship. There’s no other reason his roommate wants to meet him besides just wanting to meet Woojin’s lost long friend. That’s it. That’s all there is to it.

“You do fuck with him a lot,” Woojin points out. “Or at least you did.”

“I still do. But I sent him a picture of you and so he ended up believing me after all. Always got to have those receipts.”

“Picture?” Woojin’s features are still as if he’s trying to figure out a rather complicated puzzle.

“I was sitting in the waiting room for two hours.”

“You took a picture of me?”

“I took a lot of pictures.”

“Of me?”

“Of you and the dogs and a few selcas and I liked the way the sunlight was filtering through the window so I took a few pictures of that, too. And the plants.”

“Of me?” His voice is about an octave higher. “Delete them. No, I can’t trust you to actually delete them just because I want you to. Give me your phone.” He holds out his hand.

Jihoon doesn’t move because it should be obvious to Woojin that he has no intention of handing over his cell.

“Give it.”

“Make me.”

“No. Give it to me. You took pictures without my consent. Isn’t that illegal?”

“Are you going to report me to the police?” Jihoon puts his hands on his hips.

Woojin seems to be having a mental debate, but he stands and pulls on one of Jihoon’s elbows. “Do you want me to take it forcibly? Because I’m pretty sure I’m stronger and faster than you, and I promise I’ll get that phone out of your back pocket before you even know my hand’s on your ass.”

That’d be impossible. The thought makes Jihoon flush enough that he can feel it crawling up his neck. “The fuck you are. And my phone is locked, so even if you get it, you won’t be able to get into it. Besides, they’re good pictures.”

“No such thing exists. Candid photos are not good photos. Ever.” When Woojin reaches behind Jihoon, he doesn’t even try to stop him. One hand holds Jihoon’s right hip, probably to keep him from moving away, although Jihoon has no intention of it. His other hand falls against Jihoon’s left back pocket first, probably to confirm he chose the correct side (he did), then his fingers slip in, maybe a little slowly, and pulls out his phone. “Is it your birthday?”

“Nope, but you can try it.”

Woojin’s nose scrunches when he does. “What’s your fucking passcode?”

“Not telling.”

“Jihoon, I swear to God, give me your fucking passcode.”

“Or what?” Jihoon tilts his head and fights his smirk.

Woojin studies him for a few long moments. Then he growls a little and pockets Jihoon’s phone. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another. Our food’s getting cold.”

Jihoon smiles and picks up the slower pups. “You won’t.” Then he heads inside, Woojin following with the rest of the pups who diligently trot after his heels.

Over dinner, Woojin talks more about his roommate, Daehwi, who forced him to make friends and be a Real Human Being for the rest of his college career. Then suddenly Jihoon is telling Woojin about the dance team drama he missed, all the shit he got himself into that Donghan had to drag him out of, and how he landed his dream job.

“You’re a teacher?” Woojin repeats after Jihoon. “No shit?”

“You can look up my name on Google and the university I work at. So yeah, no shit. But we’re on break, so I’ve just been volunteering.”

For a second, it looks like Woojin’s going to tease him about volunteering, but then he stops himself and smiles instead, softly. “I’m glad that you’ve been doing well and that you’re doing something you love.”

“Of course I am,” Jihoon says quickly before he can spend any time thinking about Woojin said or what it means. “But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Didn’t your dad want you to be a doctor?”

“Yeah.” Woojin sits back. His brow furrows with memories, then a smile stretches across his face and he ducks his head a little. “We’re not speaking. Well, he’s not speaking to me. Not until I’m in vet school. I applied, but… uh. I didn’t get in. He thought I did it on purpose. But Mom complains that all he does is ask her about me, so I know he’s not… it’s not like he hates me. I guess he’s still holding onto some hope that I’ll give it another shot.”

Jihoon can tell that Woojin isn’t looking for sympathy, nor is he looking for Jihoon to give him advice about how to mend his relationship with his dad. So he doesn’t say anything at first and just watches Woojin and the muscle jumping in his jaw as he clenches it tight.

He’s still handsome as all hell. His skin’s got color, a nice even tan and an even complexion. His square jaw makes him appear sharp, serious, and his tendency to just stare straight ahead when he’s concentrating too much, not concentrating at all, or just doesn’t give a fuck adds to that. Which honestly covers about most of his waking hours. The Woojin when he’s relaxed, when he’s having fun, when he’s smiling or smirking or growling or snarling is the Woojin that fucks with Jihoon’s heart more than he’d like to admit.

“Are you going to?” Jihoon says after a while. “Do you want to give it another shot?”

Woojin sucks on the inside of his cheeks, then takes a long drink of his beer. Finally, he says, “Yeah. I think I do. I mean, I think I will. I just want to do it on my own terms. When I’m ready, when I know it’s actually what I want, when my worth as a son isn’t based on whether I’m a doctor or not. That last one’s never happening, though.” He squints one eye, and his lip lifts enough to just show his snaggletooth, and Jihoon’s pretty sure he’s never looked more attractive and vulnerable and perfect. “Okay, maybe I mean when I don’t base my own worth on whether I have the letters D, V, and M after my name.”

All Jihoon wants to do is reach out a hand and put it on top of Woojin’s, but he doesn’t. He just watches him sit in whatever feeling it is that has him rocking slightly side to side, has his eyes downcast, has his shoulders heavy.

“You’re worth a whole fucking lot than three stupid letters,” Jihoon says. “You’re also s-t-u-p-i-d, for the record.”

Woojin lifts his head and he looks Pissed. Then he closes his eyes and shakes his head and starts chuckling. “Fuck you.”

“I’m sure you’d like to.”

“I’m sure we almost did.”

Jihoon chokes.

“Did you forget?” Woojin asks, that smirk sitting on his face that Jihoon equally loves and hates.

How should he answer that? If he says yes, will that mean they’ll have to talk about it? Jihoon is not fucking ready to talk about Woojin’s goodbye party. If he says no, will that mean they’ll never talk about it? He does want to talk about it, but not at this precise moment when he’s alone with Woojin in his apartment with eight dogs.

Woojin’s finger moves across Jihoon’s cheek, caressing. “You short circuiting over there? You’re red.”

There does not exist enough a way to say fuck that would satisfy Jihoon right now. He slaps Woojin’s hand away, which feels good. Woojin always was great for smacking around. “If I remember correctly, all we did was make out.”

“We were just interrupted.”

“And then you left.” Jihoon swallows hard.

That shuts Woojin up pretty damn well.

“And you went to Yale,” Jihoon continues, “moped for a few months until Daehwi knocked some sense into you, then you joined the dance team and started giving a fuck again, and you graduated cum laude. From Fucking Yale. You went to a veterinary technician training program, took some certification exam. You moved back here. You got a job as a vet tech. You met me. Clearly, whether your dad’s going to talk to you or not, you’re doing fucking well for yourself, and you’re definitely worth more than all the letters of the alphabet as far as I’m concerned. Take your time deciding what to do for the rest of your life. You’ve got time. Time here.”

“With you.”

Quietly, Jihoon says, “With me, yeah.”

“I did not want to leave. You know that, right?” The way Woojin is looking at Jihoon fucking pierces through him, stills his heart, sends shivers down his spine.

He is not supposed to fall in love with Woojin again.

But fuck that plan does not seem to be working.

Jihoon nods. “Yeah, I know.”

Woojin smiles, and Jihoon finds it hard to breathe. “You want another beer? It’s still early. We can set up my Xbox and shit and play something.”

“Sure. Why not?”

Several beers, several hours of play, and several puppy potty breaks later, Jihoon is borrowing pajamas from Woojin and crawling into bed with him instead of driving home. Woojin begrudgingly gives Jihoon his phone back so he can set a timer for taking the puppies out. Every time his alarm goes off to take them potty, he tells Woojin to stay in bed, but he gets up and shuffles after Jihoon anyway. Sleepy Woojin is by far the cutest version of Woojin.

When Woojin’s alarm goes off to get up for work, he tucks Jihoon into the bed so well that by the time Jihoon has wiggled his way out, Woojin’s already out of the door with the puppies. Jihoon gets up anyway because he saw eggs and cheese in Woojin’s fridge.

By the time Woojin’s back with the puppies, Jihoon has an omelette in the works.

“Are you making breakfast?” Woojin asks, clearly still half-asleep because the answer is in the smell of eggs cooking.

“It’ll be ready once you’re out of the shower.”

Woojin nods, but then instead of dragging his ass to the bathroom, he’s opening a drawer in the kitchen, pulling out an apron, and then dropping it over Jihoon’s head. His voice is gravelly with sleep still. “For you.” He ties it from behind.

Jihoon is not blushing.

“Hmm,” Woojin grumbles. His moves his fingers through Jihoon’s hair. “Sorry, messed it up a little. Fixed it though. Be right back.” Then, for fuck’s sake, Woojin wraps his arms around Jihoon’s middle and hugs him, although briefly, before finally heading to the bathroom.

Jihoon is not blushing.

He’s also not blushing when he glimpses Woojin walking out of the bathroom in just a towel with his skin glistening. He still has the body of a dancer and Jihoon isn’t even sure if he’s still dancing because life just isn’t fair.

When he comes back, he’s in black scrubs again and he has a towel on his head so he can keep drying his hair. He sits next to Jihoon at the island in the kitchen, a warm omelette waiting for him.

“So did you poison it?” Woojin asks, but he followed it with a big bite.

“Even better. I spit in it.”

Woojin pauses, but then he shovels in another mouthful with a shrug. “If your spit made it this good, I’m okay with that. Nothing I haven’t tasted before anyway. Fuck, it’s _so good_. _How in the hell can you cook this well?_ ”

“Practice.”

“But it’s _you_.”

Jihoon punches him in the arm. “Did I just feed your dumb ass or not. What you meant to say was thank you, Jihoon, for making me breakfast when you didn’t have to.”

“That didn’t even hurt.”

“Oh, you want it to hurt? I can do that.”

Then, like the hundreds of times they play-fought before Woojin left, they’re tugging at each other’s clothes and laughing and punching each other and kicking each other—softly, of course, but maybe more or two will leave bruises. Woojin is out of practice, though, and Jihoon has him pinned to the floor, straddling his waist, while eight puppies attack his face with their tongues.

“So what’re you supposed to say when someone gets up way too early to make you breakfast?” Jihoon asks, punching him in the stomach enough to make him groan but he could be convinced Woojin’s faking it because his abs are fucking rock hard.

Between pushing puppy faces away and wiping saliva off his face, he says, “Thank you?”

“Better.” Jihoon gets off, then offers Woojin a hand. “When do you have to leave?”

Woojin takes it and heaves himself up. He checks the clock. “Like five minutes ago. Shit.” He grabs his wallet, which he left on one of the boxes that’s supposed to be his coffee table, and his keys. “Here.” He starts sliding a key off. “My key. Just slide it under the welcome mat after you lock up. I’ll be home around the same time, so if you just want to plan it so you’re not leaving for home more than like three hours before I’ll get back, that’d be great. I’ll see you…?”

“Soon, yeah.” Jihoon gives him a smile, which Woojin returns.

He takes Jihoon’s hand and presses the key into his palm. “Thank you for breakfast. It was delicious, and you really didn’t need to make it for me. I had a great time with you last night. Thank fuck you walked into my clinic yesterday, because I kinda forgot how much I love spending time with you. I’m not leaving. I’m here to stay, so good luck trying not to hang out with me again. It’s going to happen.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Jihoon pockets the key and starts shoving Woojin out of the door. “You’re already late, aren’t you?”

“What, you’re not going to tell me how wonderful the Thai place I picked out was? Or that you had an awesome time chilling with me, too? Or that you’re happy I’m back? And that I’m back for good? Wow, some friend.”

“This isn’t goodbye,” Jihoon says. “So I’ll tell you all that next time. Maybe. Go to work, Park Woojin.”

That puts a big fat smile on his face, and Jihoon’s heart skips a damn beat.

“Not-goodbye, then, Park Jihoon.”

Then, with no consideration for Jihoon’s heart, Woojin gives him a kiss on the cheek and then leaves and it’s everything he’d wished saying goodbye to Woojin would’ve been like the first time. A not-goodbye. A promise to return. A hope that maybe they could be more.

“Well, fuck,” Jihoon says, looking down at his puppy entourage. “What am I supposed to do after that, huh?”

Beauvoir answers back with an excited bark, but what she’s really trying to say is now that Jihoon’s done with Woojin, can he please play with her now.

“Fine, fine,” he answers.

Jihoon has no plan on being at Woojin’s when he gets back home. But he spends some time unpacking Woojin’s kitchen because the least he can do before leaving all these pups to Woojin is to help him get his home in order a bit. Then he takes the dogs on a walk. Then he piles them into his car to buy some new toys for them. He takes them to the park and lets Beauvoir play catch until she refused to move. Sartre hates fetch, but he loves laying in the sun so he enjoys himself quite a lot as well. Then he works on training some of the pups to play fetch, too, though only two of them seemed super interested.

Somehow, by the time Jihoon gets back to Woojin’s place and has set out the dog food and got them all new water, Woojin is home. Jihoon was expecting him to ask why Jihoon was still there or ask when he was planning on leaving. He does neither.

“Honey,” he says, “I’m home. How does Mexican sound for dinner?”

Although Jihoon gives him a look, he answers, “Sounds good, babe.”

“Menu’s in the drawer, sugar."

 

 

⧖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look it's not angst!!! it's still fluffy isn't it???? i'm doing well!


	3. a kiss

i know i  
should crumble  
for better reasons  
but have you seen  
that boy he brings  
the sun to its  
knees every  
night  
\- rupi kaur

 

 

By the end of the week, Jihoon has completely unpacked Woojin’s place. He has also somehow managed to bring over half his wardrobe, his toiletries, some kitchen essentials (like his waffle maker, his toaster (how did Woojin live without a _toaster_ ), his blender, his collection of hard liquor), and his favorite blanket to Woojin’s. Temporarily, of course.

Tuesday and Wednesday nights, Woojin was still trying to get up every three hours in the middle of the night with Jihoon to take the puppies potty, but when he almost overslept for work Thursday morning, he finally gave in and let Jihoon go out alone. So Woojin takes the puppies potty right before they go to bed by himself and attempts to sleep through Jihoon taking them out two more times before he has to wake up, and then he drags himself out of bed with Jihoon so he can start to wake up. But mostly he just leans against Jihoon’s side or against his back, sometimes resting his head against Jihoon’s or sometimes letting his forehead fall onto Jihoon’s shoulder because sleep is still heavy in his limbs.

Friday, Woojin follows the puppy potty break with a shower and Jihoon starts making breakfast. He takes a quick one and then trails Jihoon’s heels in the tiny kitchen.

“Waffles?” Woojin mumbles, draping himself against Jihoon’s back again. “Can I help?”

“Pancakes.” Jihoon chuckles, not bothering to comment on how damn clingy Woojin is in the morning. He’s used to it now. And it’s adorable, even though it doesn’t help with the whole _don’t fall in love with Woojin again_ plan. “Do you see the waffle maker on the counter?”

Woojin grumbles. “Can I help?”

“Can I trust you with a knife?”

“I love knives.”

Jihoon flinches, twisting in Woojin’s arms to give him a look. “Wow, that’s exactly what I want to hear. Guess I’ll sleep in my own damn bed tonight.”

Woojin scoffs. “You know that’s not what I meant. But you can go home if you want. The puppies will miss you.”

“And so will you.” Jihoon knocks away Woojin’s arms so he can actually move and opens the fridge. “Can you chop up the strawberries in the fridge? We need to use them before they go bad.”

“There are strawberries in there?” Woojin asks as Jihoon shoves the small plastic container into his hands. “You went shopping?”

“Like two days ago. How do you think I’ve been feeding you?”

“Housewife magic?”

“I’m not your housewife.” Jihoon grabs a cutting board and a knife for Woojin, setting both on a clear space on the counter on the other side of the stove. “Here. Just cut off the stems like this, and then half it and then half it again. Easy. Right?”

Woojin is squinting a little, bowing his head as if he’s actually having to think about it. “…Right.” He takes the knife from Jihoon and the spot behind the cutting board. He does a couple then turns to Jihoon, “Like this?”

Jihoon checks to see if the pan is hot, then puts some pancake batter in the pan. He checks Woojin’s work. “Wow. I didn’t tell you to macerate them.”

“To what?”

“Don’t use so much pressure when holding the strawberries in place. Here.” Jihoon moves behind Woojin this time and, fucking hell, he has to rise onto his toes in order to see over his shoulder enough to direct his hands. He snakes his arms around his torso and takes out a strawberry. He holds it in place with his fingertips and guides Woojin’s hand with the knife toward the strawberry. “Go ahead, cut it.”

“But your fingers…”

“Aren’t in the way? Cut it.”

Woojin hesitates, then makes a careful cut.

“Good.” Jihoon takes Woojin’s free hand now and positions it on the edge of one of the strawberry halves. He points down the middle. “Just hold the strawberry enough so that it doesn’t move. There’s no need to press down on it. Cut there.”

He does what Jihoon says. “Like that?”

“Perfect,” Jihoon says. “Then again on the other half.”

He repositions his hand to hold the other half of the strawberry the same way Jihoon positioned his hand before, then makes a precise cut. “Right?”

“Just keep doing that and it’ll be great.”

“Why do I feel like you’re mocking me right now.” Woojin glances at him from over his shoulder.

“Oh, did you finally wake up?” Jihoon flips the pancake and tries not to smirk when Woojin’s jaw drops a little because he didn’t need to use any utensils. “How have you survived this long without knowing something basic like how to cut strawberries?”

“Shut up.” He chops a few. “…Are these okay…?”

Why is he so fucking adorable?

“Did you pulverize them with your giant thumbs?” Before looking at Woojin’s work, he grabs the apron Woojin’s insisted that Jihoon wear the last few days. He slips it over Woojin’s head this time. “Well, there’s improvement. Softer touch.”

Woojin looks down at the apron, hair a mess. “Softer? Jesus. Fine.”

Jihoon ties the apron at his back and chuckles into his shoulder blades. “Either do it right or don’t do it at all, Park Woojin.”

“I’ll do it exactly how you want it done. Every damn time.” Woojin turns again, enough to look at him. For some reason, it doesn’t sound like he’s talking about the strawberries. “And the pancake is smoking.”

“I always burn the first one.” Thankful from the distraction from the way Woojin is looking at him, Jihoon moves back to the stove and removes the pancake, now blackened on one side, only to replace it with fresh batter. “This one’s for real.”

“Sure.” Woojin does not manage to hide his eye roll as well as Jihoon thinks he probably did.  He begins concentrating on a new strawberry. He chews on his bottom lip as he concentrates on the hard task of not crushing the strawberries with one hand and slicing into their juicy flesh with the other. “So what are we doing with the strawberries after this?”

“Macerating them.”

“Wait, isn’t that what you told me we weren’t—”

“I didn’t tell you to macerate them _yet_. Just because you’re going to macerate them doesn’t mean you can be sloppy with your knife work. Keep cutting, sweetie.”

Woojin curls his lip. “Sure thing, muffin.” Then he pops one of the strawberries into his mouth and goes back to work. Jihoon has to give him credit for being diligent, if slow. Maybe he should let Woojin help him in the kitchen a bit more so he can someday reach the point where he’s actually helpful, someday when they can actually cook a meal together.

Jihoon stops himself. That’s assuming that they’ll be cooking together more than the handful of times they’ll have the chance before Jihoon takes the puppies back to Donghan’s roommates and Jihoon goes back to his own place. When Jihoon’s not crashing here, they won’t have many—if any—reasons to cook together. Maybe Woojin will become too dependent on Jihoon feeding him that he’ll get desperate, but Jihoon can’t imagine that happening.

So the countdown begins. In a few days, Jihoon will have peace and quiet again. In a few days, Woojin will just be a friend he sees sometimes.

He can’t wait.

After breakfast, Jihoon and the puppies wait at the door while Woojin puts on his shoes and checks his pockets for everything he needs. Then he tells each puppy he’ll see them later, then faces Jihoon.

“And it’s still okay if you want to go home and leave them to me,” he says, eyes searching Jihoon’s. “That was the whole point of you bringing them over.”

“The point was that I couldn’t keep them at my place. I wouldn’t abandon them to you. They’re a lot of work.” Jihoon shoves him toward the door, but Woojin catches his hands. “You leave later and later every day. What is wrong with you?”

Woojin entwines their fingers and steps even closer. “Every day, I want to leave less and less.” He smirks, then releases one of Jihoon’s hands to wrap around his shoulders in a hug, resting his head against Jihoon’s so his breath caresses his ear. “My housewife is just so pretty and such a good cook. Who would ever want to leave?”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not your damn housewife.” Pretending he just wants to get the inevitable goodbye hug out of the way, he wraps his arm around Woojin’s waist and pulls him closer. “And it’s your ass on the line if you’re late, not mine. You can’t move in with me if you can’t pay your rent. Remember the guest rule?”

“Donghan seems to be skirting that rule real well.” Woojin finally moves away, but he keps a steady hold on Jihoon’s hand and he hovers close enough to Jihoon’s face that he can smell the mint of his toothpaste on his breath.

“Because he’s attractive and charming. Two things you don’t have going for you. _Go_ , Woojin.”

He ignores Jihoon’s insult. “I could just call in sick. Just this once.”

“We have lunch plans with Donghan near your work today. Did you forget?”

Woojin lifts his lip in a snarl that shows his snaggletooth. “Right.”

“And I’m making you go grocery shopping with me after you get off work.”

That makes Woojin recoil. He looks like he’s going to say _fuck no I’m not_ but quickly reconsiders. “That’s fair. Alright. The pups?”

“They’ll be fine alone for a few. I’m going to buy them a play pen before lunch and get it all set up. Did you think they were coming to lunch with us? God, you’re so stupid.”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Woojin, you need to actually leave for work at some point.”

“I don’t need to.”

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t even want to.”

“But it’s your job.”

“I just _have_ to. It’s a technicality is all. What I _need_ to do is spend as much time with you as possible because I’m pretty sure you’re going to try to get away with seeing me as little as possible once we don’t have the dogs to watch together.”  Woojin caresses the back of Jihoon’s hand with his thumb, a soft smile growing on his face. The one that makes Jihoon all too weak. “And what I _want_ to do is stay home with you today. What do you think?”  

Jihoon would be lying if he said it sounded like a terrible idea. “Do you want my honest opinion?”

“Always,” Woojin says, quietly, removing the slight distance between them again.

“I think this job’s pretty important to you.” Jihoon swallows and, because he knows Woojin will tell him he’s not being completely honest if he doesn’t, he looks straight into Woojin’s eyes, unblinking, unwavering. “I think you’re considering applying to vet school again, and this job is what’s going to make you stand out from the other applicants. Skipping today just to play around with me isn’t going to make you happy. Your stomach is going to be in knots all day. You’re going to wonder if your supervisor mentioned that one time you called in sick last minute in the letter of recommendation she writes for you. And if you don’t get accepted this year, you’re always going to feel like if you’d put in a little extra effort, maybe that would’ve been all you needed to get in. So go.”

It isn’t until Jihoon punctuates the end of his sentence by letting Woojin’s hand go that he drops his eyes. He takes a big breath, then presses his palm to his forehead.

“Yeah,” he says, taking a step back. He’s a little breathless, as if Jihoon had just punched him in the stomach. Of course Jihoon knows that’s basically what he just did. And it feels like shit. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“And you’re wrong.”

Woojin gives Jihoon a look. “About what? I just agreed with you?”

“I’m not going to cut you out of my life once we’re done co-parenting. You’re stuck with me, boo bear.” And against all sense or reason, Jihoon gives him a real hug. The kind that makes the puppies yip and whine for their attention because, according to them, their parents are paying too much of it to each other.

“Thanks for the reassurance, angel face,” Woojin says, hugging Jihoon back, “but I’ll see it when I believe it.” Then he sneaks in a kiss on Jihoon’s cheek and rushes out of the door before Jihoon can kick him for it.

The rest of Jihoon’s morning is filled with gathering up enough cardboard boxes to protect Woojin’s carpet from the puppies when they’re left alone and buying a play pen from the local kid toy store. Because things made to keep babies in a manageable area is wildly cheaper than things made to keep puppies in a small enough space to cover with cardboard in case they have an accident or two. Once he has the whole thing set up, he takes them potty again, feeds them, then litters the inside of the pen with toys. While they’re distracted, he takes a quick shower and dresses in something he wouldn’t mind being seen in public wearing.

When it’s time to head out, he takes the puppies potty one more time, barricades them into the play pen, gives them each a treat, and tells them he’ll be back soon. The distressed whines and barks he hears once they realize he’s _gone_ is heartbreaking, but there’s not much he can do about it. They have Beauvoir and Sartre. They have water. They have each other. They’ll be okay.

Or at least he tells himself that because there’s no other way he can force himself to get into his car and drive away.

Woojin is already there when he arrives, but Donghan isn’t yet.

“Should we just order because you need to be back in an hour?” Jihoon suggests before the waitress can make her way over again. He picks up the menu and scans it.

“We can, but it’s not like I have to eat everything now. You can take it back to my place and we can have leftovers for our midnight snack.”

That’s not a terrible idea. “I was thinking I’d drive you back though, so you could have more time.”

Woojin smiles. “That’s sweet of you, cupcake.”

“Anything for you, darling.”

The waitress returns and asks if they’re ready to order. They both get a BLT with a side salad and ice coffee.

“Is this a couple order?” she asks, her pen still scribbling on her notepad.

“A what?” Jihoon asks. Because technically, since they ordered the same thing, it could be called a couple order, but isn’t that a weird way to phrase it. Maybe _same_ or _identical_ would fit better. 

“We have a discount for couples who order the same thing,” she says.

“Yes,” Woojin answers.

 _What_.

“Alright, a couple order of BLTs, side salads, and ice coffees.” She smiles, but she’s also looking between them as if maybe she’s not sure if they’re just saying they’re a couple to get the discount or if they’re really boyfriends. “Are you still expecting one more?”

Woojin reaches over as though he’s read into her expression the same way Jihoon has and puts his hand on top of Jihoon’s. “Yeah. He should be here soon. Thanks.”

Jihoon can only stare at him until the waitress is out of sight. “Temporary roommates and now temporary boyfriends?”

“I like discounts,” Woojin says.

Does he also like fucking with Jihoon’s heart or is that just a fucking bonus?

“And besides,” Woojin adds, “it’s not like it’s that far from the truth at this point.”

Jihoon clenches his jaw and sits back in the booth. There’s a lot he could say, but this isn’t the time or place to start talking about just what the actual fuck they’re doing right now. It’d require them to talk about the night Woojin left and the way they let their friendship fade away and, dear fucking lord, they’d probably have to talk about how easy it’s been to fall back into their old habits.

But before all that, Jihoon needs to decide what he wants. Does he want to be friends with Woojin or does he want more? Is he thankful Woojin’s back in his life because he’s helping with the dogs or because Jihoon has been secretly hoping Woojin would come back someday?

Or maybe what Jihoon really needs to face is that he already knows the answers to those questions.

When Jihoon meets Woojin’s gaze, Woojin is just looking back at him. He’s not smiling or frowning, there’s no laughter or irritation in his eyes. His face is relaxed, his gaze patient, as if he’s trying to tell Jihoon that he can take as much time as he wants to figure shit out because he’ll wait for however long as he needs. That just maybe he’s been waiting this entire time.

Fuck.

“Wow.” Donghan has made it all the way to their table without either of them noticing him.  “You two are being way too quiet. It’s fucking scary.”

Woojin is on his feet, laughing, before Jihoon can really react. He envelops Donghan in a hug. “Hey! God, it’s been forever.” He pats him on the back and then moves out of the hug, only to have Donghan pull him in for another.

“You mean you missed me?” Donghan squeezes him one last time, then gives him a good look over. “Damn, you look good, man. Been working out a little, got yourself a little Seattle tan, and scrubs is an oddly good look for you?” He grins.

Woojin grins back. “At least one of you has a pair of eyes. Jihoon said I look awful in them.”

“Because all you own are _black_ scrubs,” Jihoon says, getting up because he can tell Donghan is ready to give him a hug. Donghan smothers him, but he manages to force out, “Maybe if you tried red or blue or green or just anything other than black.”

“I look good in black, thanks.”

“The problem is that everyone looks good in black so if it’s the only color you look good in, doesn’t that mean you’re not actually that good looking.” Jihoon wraps his arms around Donghan’s middle and holds him close. “I missed you.”

Donghan plants several kisses into Jihoon’s hair. “I missed you, too. But it’s your fault. You’re the one who keeps saying you’re too busy with the pups to come home and spend time with me. I’m literally living in your house and I haven’t seen you once.”

“I can’t bring them home,” Jihoon says, extracting himself from Donghan and sitting again, “and I don’t want to leave Woojin to watch them. They’re not his problem.”

Donghan follows him into the booth and throws an arm around his shoulders. He kisses Jihoon’s temple, then kisses his cheek, then wraps both arms around him. He’s always been clingy, but he’s always worse when they haven’t seen each other in a while. This level of affection tells Jihoon they haven’t spent nearly enough time together, and his stomach knots with guilt.

“But who’s going to watch me?” Donghan all but purrs.

“You’re an adult?” Jihoon pets his hair. He glances at Woojin, who has taken a seat opposite Jihoon and is staring right at Jihoon but, it seems, not really looking at him as much as through him because he doesn’t seem to register the moment their eyes meet. “And we’re at lunch together right now, aren’t we?”

“I had to beg you, but yeah.” Donghan finally sits straight, but he keeps an arm around Jihoon’s shoulders. “Did you two order already?”

“Yeah,” Woojin says, and it almost seems to startle himself. He finally realizes that he’s been staring at Jihoon and tears his gaze away. He’s even blushing. “She should be coming back soon. We said we were still waiting for another.”

“Fantastic.” Donghan releases Jihoon this time completely so he can take a look through the menu. “What’d you two get?”

“We both ended up getting the BLT,” Jihoon says. “I was thinking of getting the chicken soup, though.”

“That sounds good.” Donghan gives Jihoon is best smile. He’s a handsome fuck for sure, and it’s this smile that Jihoon is sure is allowing him to stay in Jihoon’s place well past the three-day guest limit. “I can get that and you can have some if you let me have some of your BLT.”

“Deal.” Jihoon, of course, anticipates he’ll have far more of Donghan’s soup than he’ll let him have of his BLT. After all, his smile doesn’t work on Jihoon the way it works on practically everyone else.

The waitress returns with one big plate, two small bowls, and two glasses of ice coffee on a large platter. “Here are the couple BLTs.” She sets it between Jihoon and Woojin, then passes over the other dishes. Then she turns to Donghan and readies her pen. “And what would you like?”

Donghan slaps Jihoon’s leg under the table but doesn’t say anything. Actually, he doesn’t say anything about it at all during their brief lunch date, but Jihoon can feel the question burning in him the entire time. Especially in the way he stares a little longer at Jihoon’s profile, glances over at Woojin after every little quip Jihoon throws his way as if anticipating a certain kind of reaction. And Jihoon is pretty sure Donghan is a little more touchy than usual because he’s testing whether one of them will say something about it—whether it’ll bother either one of them.

Sure enough, once they’ve parted and Jihoon has dropped Woojin back off at work and driven back to Woojin’s place, there’s a text waiting for him.

 

> **Donghan** _Today 11:48am_
> 
> Couple BLTs?
> 
> Park Jihoon explain
> 
> You told me you were “over” him “watching the puppies together isn’t going to mean shit”
> 
> These are clearly lies

Jihoon just tells him to call him when he gets off work, because that should give him about an hour to get it through Donghan’s head there’s really nothing going on between them before Woojin gets home. Even if maybe Jihoon would like there to be.

When Jihoon gets home, he spends about ten minutes ignoring the pups although it physically hurts him. Because if he gives them attention as soon as he gets home, they’ll learn to anticipate his return rather than pay attention to the treat he gives them before he leaves. He doesn’t want to give them bad habits for their future owners. Whoever those people may be. Hopefully they’re people who will love these dogs even more than he does.

Though Jihoon isn’t sure that’s even possible.

Once they’ve calmed down about Jihoon’s arrival back home, he showers them with love and affection and praises them for not ruining the cardboard. He takes them potty and on a short walk, then he spends the next few hours playing with them, watching them nap, then playing with them more, then watching them nap again. Around the time he knows Donghan will be off work, he takes them on a walk.

Right at five, Donghan calls, and Jihoon spends an hour convincing him not to worry. That, yes, Woojin leaving did fuck him up a lot. Like a lot. But that was because he’d expected shit back then but he’s older now. More mature. He expects nothing this time. They’re just friends. They just hang out. There’s literally nothing going on between them.

“We don’t even hug,” Jihoon lies.

Donghan grumbles something that sounds an awful like _like fuck I’d believe that but whatever_. “It just seemed like at lunch your friendship was exactly like it was before he left. And I know how much you liked him back then. How could I honestly expect you not to fall in love with him again?”

“Because I’m a different person now,” Jihoon says, and this time it isn’t a lie. The problem is that Woojin is a little different, too. “We’re just friends.”

“Alright, fine.” Donghan sighs. “I guess the real question then is whether you’re going to cut him off after this.”

It probably takes Jihoon a few moments too long to answer. He sees Woojin’s car in the driveway ahead. “I won’t.”

“Jihoon.”

“Don’t say it.”

“I’m asking the wrong questions, aren’t I?”

“Don’t say it, Donghan.”

Silence.

Jihoon hesitates at the bottom of the stairs that lead up to Woojin’s front door. “Please.”

“Okay,” Donghan says, “I won’t. But I’ll be here when you need me.”

“Thank you,” Jihoon says. He remembers to breathe, then heads up the stairs. “Thanks. I have to go now.”

“I’ll see you later. I love you.”

Woojin opens the door and leans against the frame, arms crossed over his chest. He’s already changed out of scrubs and into a pair of black jeans and a black tank-top that shows off his muscles because fuck what else would he wear.

“I love you, too,” Jihoon says back to Donghan a little quietly, then hangs up and offers Woojin a smile. “Welcome home, my dearest Woojin.”

“Thanks, my darling Jihoon. I have their food ready. Should we feed them then head out to shop?” Woojin grabs a few of the leashes from Jihoon and leads the puppies inside.

Jihoon follows them and closes the door behind him. “Sounds good. I’m getting hungry.”

“When aren’t you hungry?” Woojin chuckles and pulls away. Then he crouches and starts unleashing the dogs. They run over to Jihoon one by one because they know what’s coming next.

Jihoon heads to the kitchen to put down their evenly proportioned bowls of food. “Right after I’ve had a proper meal.”

“For like ten minutes?”

“Fifteen!”

Woojin barks out his laughter. “As if those five minutes really matter.”

“They matter a lot.” Jihoon sits between the bowls and makes sure each dog sticks to their own bowl. “They’re the difference between ridiculous and only a little ridiculous.”

“Notice how both of those options include the word ridiculous.”

“Wow, who asked you?”

“We’re in my house, so doesn’t that mean only my opinion matters?”

“If this is an autocracy then I’m out.”

Woojin sits down across from Jihoon. “I guess behind every autocrat there is housewife.”

“Jesus fucking Christ. I’m not your housewife!”

“Trophy wife?”

Jihoon doesn’t even humor him with an answer.

Woojin just chuckles. “Fine. I’ll be the housewife. Should I get a grocery list started, oh loving husband of mine?”

Jihoon cannot control the disgusted face he makes, and whatever expression that overtakes him sends Woojin onto his side in a fit of laughter. All Jihoon knows is that his face feels far too hot. Some of the dogs who’re done eating take Woojin’s new position to mean he wants to play, so they attack his face with their tongues, and Jihoon doesn’t even try to stop them. Serves him right.

It takes a good hour before they’re ready to leave the dogs again. Jihoon leaves them treats and they both tell the puppies they’ll be back soon. Woojin puts a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder when they hear them whining from outside.

“We’ll be quick,” Woojin promises.

They both get into Woojin’s car, and Woojin drives them to the nearest grocery store. Jihoon shoves a cart into Woojin’s side and then abandons it, so Woojin takes up position behind it and follows Jihoon around the store, staring with fruits and vegetables and ending with the bakery.

“Do we need this?” Woojin asks, pointing to some vegetable oil. “For like frying things?”

“You have some,” Jihoon says.

“I do?”

“Do you even know what’s in your kitchen right now?”

Woojin shrugs, and this is the precise moment Jihoon realizes that Woojin has probably only been grocery shopping once since moving to Seattle—and it may have been with his parents, who probably helped him move. Which means Woojin has probably gotten take out or eaten out every day for two months.

Every aisle, Woojin tries to add something to the cart that’s either pointless, disgusting, or something basic that he already has—like salt, pepper, flour, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, sugar, rice (of course he fucking has rice).

Then when they check out, Woojin seems to do a double take at the amount as if he’s never actually tried to fill his cabinets before, but he pays without complaining. They unpack the groceries together, then Jihoon forces Woojin to cut up tomatoes for a quick marinara sauce and some bruschetta.

He does better, but only barely.

Over dinner, Woojin asks about what Donghan’s doing. Then the topic shifts to Jihoon.

“Are you thinking you’ll climb up the ranks at your job now?” Woojin asks, swirling the last bit of his spaghetti onto his fork.

“I can’t, really. I don’t have a PhD, so I can’t really ever be a professor. As much as I’d like some job stability, I’m fine with just being a lecturer.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, he knows he shouldn’t have said them.

“But don’t you love teaching?”

“I know where you want to go with this conversation,” Jihoon says, “but I’ve been there before, and I’m good. I’m really fine. If I were to try to get a PhD in East Asian Studies or East Asian Languages, I’d probably have to move and it’s not just about knowing a couple languages, it’s also about research and I have no fucking idea what kind of research I’d want to do. I don’t think it’s for me.”

“Why not?”

Jihoon releases a long sigh. Woojin wasn’t there for his honor’s project, so it’s not necessarily unfair of him to ask. “I had a really hard time my senior year, especially with my honor’s project. More or less, my advisor told me I should stick with teaching and that if I wasn’t a native Korean speaker already, I probably wouldn’t have done very well in my major. So. Yeah, there’s really no use in trying to get a PhD in something I’m not really good at.”

“Your advisor sounds like a douche.”

“A douche who’s doing exactly what I want to do—what I’d want to do, I mean. If I were to go for a PhD.” Jihoon hopes Woojin didn’t hear that slip up. So he stands up, taking his empty plate in hand, and points to Woojin’s. “Are you done? Do you want more?”

Woojin stands, too, and takes both plates and the empty bruschetta plate to the kitchen. He puts them in the sink. “Actually, I wanted to thank you at lunch for earlier, but I didn’t get a chance.”

“Thank me for what?” Honestly, Jihoon wants to thank Woojin right now for letting the PhD topic drop. Maybe he should stop being so rough on him about vet school.

“Thanks for making me go to work.” Woojin leans against the counter next to Jihoon. “When I got back, I found out one of my coworkers had to go home early because she was sick. Then we got an emergency case and I was glad I was there. Doctor K said I did a really good job. And I loved every second of it. I really do think I want to be a vet, not just a vet tech.”

The way Woojin brightens like the fucking sun, the way he moves to Jihoon and puts his hands on his waist and draws him into a hug that’s warm, so fucking warm—all of it tightens Jihoon’s chest. God, he’s in fucking love with Woojin again, and he’s not sure there was anything he could’ve done to stop it.

“Thank you,” Woojin says again.

“You’re welcome,” Jihoon says.

Then Woojin pulls back enough to stare into Jihoon’s eyes, and Jihoon has to swallow hard because his face is so close and his embrace feels so good and all he wants to do is kiss him.

“Woojin.” It’s his last attempt to stop himself.

“Shut up.”

Woojin presses their lips together, neatly at first, as if testing to see how well their lips fit together. But they already know they fit. Jihoon hasn’t forgotten the way Woojin’s lips felt against his all those years ago, how good it’d felt. Somehow, it’s better this time. It’s better when their mouths open against each other, better when their tongues swipe across each other then slide against each other.

They kiss, breathless and desperate, and Woojin is guiding Jihoon toward the couch. When the back of Jihoon’s legs meet the couch’s arm, he sits and tugs on Woojin’s shirt so their lips don’t have to part, so their bodies aren’t more than a few centimeters away from each other. Jihoon does not want to be any further from him than he has to. Not right now. Maybe not ever again.

Jihoon nibbles on Woojin’s bottom lip as he tugs Woojin’s shirt up. Woojin catches the hint and lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. Then his fingers find the bottom of Jihoon’s sweatshirt and a moment later, it’s over Jihoon’s head and Jihoon is falling back onto the couch and Woojin’s hands are moving down his front, only stopping to caress the skin just above his jeans. Jihoon scooches himself more onto the couch and grabs Woojin’s wrist, pulling him down with him, so that Woojin is kneeling on the couch above Jihoon and Jihoon’s legs are around his waist. Jihoon has never wanted anything more in his fucking life than Woojin at this very moment.

As Woojin fumbles with Jihoon’s pants, they’re pressed together in all the right ways, lips and hips. He tugs them off, slowly, once he’s drawn the zipper down, and silences Jihoon’s moan with a kiss. His hand is cold.

Jihoon’s phone rings, and if it wasn’t the ringtone he gave to Donghan, he wouldn’t have bothered. He puts a hand on Woojin’s chest and pushes.

“Jihoon,” Woojin all but growls, voice husky with lust.

Although it sends a shiver of desire down his spine, Jihoon shakes his head. “It’s Donghan. It could be an emergency. I—I have to pick it up.” He feels around for where Woojin put his damn pants, but Woojin finds them first and hands him his phone.

“Make it quick?”

Jihoon swallows and answers, hoping that he doesn’t sound like he’s naked underneath Woojin right now. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Sorry, normally I’d text, but my roommates found a place and apparently they just finished moving in tonight and they want their dogs back. Like yesterday. I know this sounds awful, but I’m kind of glad I don’t have to live with them anymore after all this. Too bad it took a fire and losing all my shit to make that happen.”

“They…want the dogs back tonight?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Jihoon.”

“No, it’s fine.” Jihoon puts a hand over his heart. “They’re not my dogs. They were going to have to go back home at some point, and it’s probably better for them to go back sooner rather than later, right? Do you have their new address?”

“Yeah. I’ll text you. Are you sure you want to do it tonight? I could probably talk them into letting you bring them over tomorrow.”

“If it’s time, it’s time,” Jihoon says. He looks at Woojin, and the way his eyebrows draw together tells Jihoon that the stinging in his eyes are probably tears. “Wouldn’t drawing it out make it worse?”

“I’ll text you the address,” Donghan says. “I’ll meet you there.”

“Thanks. See you soon.”

They hang up, and Jihoon doesn’t bother to wipe away his tears because Woojin is doing it for him.

 

 

⧖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writing this chapter gave me cavities....... thank you to those who provided me some inspiration on twitter when i asked for some things they wanted to see from 2park. i fit almost all of it in here lol
> 
> also one more chapter until the end!  
> (i promise this isn't ending like the summer they spent lost)


	4. a goodbye

it is part of the  
human experience to feel pain  
do not be afraid  
open yourself to it  
\- rupi kaur

 

Woojin takes the pups potty one last time while Jihoon packs up all the stuff he bought for them over the last week into his car—the play pen, the puppy pads, the food bowls, the food, the treats, the toys. He checks his wallet for the receipts, and although he’s missing a few from when he couldn’t help but pick out something when grocery shopping for Woojin or the few times he ordered things from Amazon Prime that Woojin didn’t even know about, he’s fine with that. Donghan’s terrible roommates probably won’t pay him back. Part of Jihoon wants to keep all of it just to spite them, but that wouldn’t be fair to the pups.

Once everything is in the car, Woojin opens the passenger side door and gestures for Jihoon to get in. Jihoon doesn’t bother fighting him. If he was the one driving, the car would probably never leave the curb. They’d probably be back inside and Jihoon would be pacing Woojin’s living room, wondering how he could get way with keeping all of them.

Woojin could attempt to comfort Jihoon, but he doesn’t. Jihoon appreciates it. He appreciates the quiet in the car that leaves him alone with each of the puppies so he can tell them he loves them, that he’ll visit, that they’ll have fun in their new temporary home, and that they’ll absolutely love their forever homes. He appreciates that Woojin reaches over and takes his hand once he’s rotated through the pups, Sartre, and Beauvoir. He appreciates that Woojin is here beside him, just being Woojin.

Donghan is there when they arrive. The first thing he does is pull Jihoon into a tight hug, but he knows better than to linger because if Jihoon is held for too long right now he won’t be able to pull it together, so it’s a quick squeeze and then down to business.

“I’ll help Woojin grab some of the stuff?” he asks.

“Yeah, if you want to grab the bag of toys and the bag of food,” Woojin says. “I’ll get the play pen.”

Jihoon just nods, though he knows neither Donghan nor Woojin were waiting for his approval, then starts leading the pups out of the car. He swallows hard against the tightness in his chest. He has to take several deep breaths before he can actually look at the house—and Donghan’s roommates opening the front door and then calling for Beauvoir and Sartre to come.

He drops their leashes, and they run to their owners. He swears they take half his heart with them, but they don’t know that, they don’t know that doing what they’re being asked to do would feel like a stab in the heart.

The drop off is a whirlwind, and Jihoon measures every expression, every gesture, every fucking thing that comes out of his mouth so Donghan’s roommates don’t know how much it hurts him to hand the pups back to them. He passes along the receipts, making sure they know he expects some of the money back. He tells them their routine, including meal times and potty breaks so they can expect when the next time they’ll need to go out. Judging by their faces, they have no intention of paying him back much or keeping any routine. All the same, Jihoon smiles like he always does, because he’d rather run around Seattle’s richest neighborhood naked as fuck than show Donghan’s roommates how he really feels right now.

Because right now, he hates them. He wants to scream at them that they’re terrible people. He wants to tell them in every single way what terrible dog owners they are. He wants to convince them that they should give him Beauvoir and Sartre and that they should let him continue taking care of the pups until they’re ready to go to their forever homes. Most of all, he wants to cry because it’s not fair they’re these awful people with wonderful dogs—it’s not fair that he wishes he never had to see Donghan’s roommates again but if he wants to keep Beauvoir and Sartre in his life, then he has to be nice to them anyway.

Why did he have to fall in love with Beauvoir and Sartre? Why did he have to care so deeply for puppies he’ll likely never see again once they go to their forever homes?

It doesn’t help, of course, when Sartre gives his hand a little lick as if to say _don’t be sad_. How could he not be sad?

All Jihoon wants to do is get the hell out of this place before his mask cracks or he says fuck it to sanity and attempts to steal the dogs back right in front of Donghan’s roommates. This is the precise moment Donghan’s roommates decide to take all of them on a tour of the mansion they conned their insurance into renting for them.

Woojin takes Jihoon’s elbow. “Sorry,” he interrupts them as they start guiding them away from the living room and into the dining room with a table large enough to be a set piece on Game of Thrones. “We’re actually both exhausted from taking care of your dogs over the last week, so we’re going to go.”

Donghan’s roommates both just stare for a few long moments.

“By going to go, I mean we’re leaving,” Woojin decides to clarify. “Because we’re tired. Since your puppies need to go out every two to three hours to encourage their association between eliminating and being outside. So that they don’t make a habit of going inside instead, which isn’t what anyone wants. And these are nice hardwood floors. Don’t want to fuck them up with dog urine, right?”

They remain silent.

“Great,” Woojin says, giving them his best impression of a _fuck you kindly_ smile, “glad you understand. It was a pleasure watching your dogs. They’re great. The pups also did a great job getting their final set of shots. I’ll be billing you for that, by the way. Look out for it. We do send people to collections if they fail to pay. And we’d be happy to keep seeing your dogs at our clinic. Thank you for recommending us. Bye now.” He drapes his arm around Jihoon’s shoulder and steers him toward the door.

Donghan’s roommates don’t say anything, but Jihoon hears them whispering to Donghan as soon as Woojin opens the front door. Jihoon grabs a fistful of the back of Woojin’s shirt. Woojin kisses his temple, he opens the car door for Jihoon, he even leans in to clasp the seatbelt.

“I’m not that useless,” Jihoon says, but he doesn’t swat Woojin’s hands away.

“You sure?” Woojin raises an eyebrow and smirks, just the most simple quirk of his lips, but that is enough to remind Jihoon what they were doing before and that there’s no way they can keep going like this without talking. Even if Jihoon doesn’t want to talk, would rather hide behind a smile and a little snark (since it’s Woojin) than face the fact that he never fucking stopped loving Woojin and he’s going to have to tell him this time.

“Woojin—”

“Hey,” Donghan interrupts them from the front door. He steps outside and closes the door behind him. “Where are you two headed?”

“Home,” Woojin answers. He leans against the side of the car and crosses his arms.

“To my house,” Jihoon says. Because not only is he scared shitless of talking to Woojin about his feelings, he’s absolutely terrified of talking to him about it right now. What will he do if Woojin doesn’t feel the same way? What will he do if Woojin plays along because he knows how fragile Jihoon is right now and then tells him later he doesn’t feel the same?

Besides, Donghan will be great at comforting him. Once he’s feeling better, then he’ll face Woojin. Isn’t that the perfect plan?

Woojin seems to disagree. “What do you mean to your house?” Woojin says, and there’s gravel in his voice. “We’re going h—” He stops himself. Maybe because he realized that Woojin’s home isn’t actually Jihoon’s. A frown digs into his features. “You know you don’t have to go back just because the dogs are gone, right?”

“I shouldn’t keep intruding on you, though.” Jihoon knows it’s a weak defense, but it’s all he has right now. “I have my own place.”

Donghan looks between them, then he sighs. “You should stay with Woojin.”

What the fuck is this betrayal.

Jihoon must not have been careful with his expression because Donghan flinches. “I moved my shit to Sanggyun hyung’s today. I finally convinced him that I’m not going to ruin his place or upset his cats by staying with him until I find a place. And I know you shouldn’t be alone tonight. I think you know that, too.”

As much as Jihoon would like to tell Donghan to go fuck himself, he can’t argue against what he said. And he knows how happy Donghan must be that Sanggyun’s letting him stay with him. His hands fist against his thighs. “You fed the fish and watered the plants?”

“Yes, and yes, of course. Everything will still be alive when you go home tomorrow.”

“Great.” Woojin slams the car door shut before Jihoon can respond. He gives Donghan a quick hug, then walks around the car to get into driver’s side.

Donghan blows Jihoon a kiss through the window because he doesn’t understand how guilty he should be feeling for abandoning Jihoon right now. Fucking asshole.

Woojin starts the car and doesn’t waste a moment. “Why don’t you want to go home—go back with me?”

“Do we really have to talk about this right now?”

“Would you rather just not talk the entire car ride when we both know shit needs to be said? We need to talk. Why the fuck should we wait?”

“Because I don’t want to talk right now!” Jihoon doesn’t yell. Ever. But he couldn’t keep it in that time. He clenches and unclenches his hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I just—”

“Fucking yell if you want to,” Woojin interrupts him. “I’m tired of you holding shit in. Just fucking say what you want to. Yell at me if you want to yell at me. Curse at me. Tell me you hate me. Just fucking tell me what’s on your damn mind.”

Jihoon takes a big breath. “You say that as if _you_ tell me what’s on your mind all the time. As if you don’t hold shit in, too. You never told me you didn’t want to leave. You never said you were going to try to come back if you could. You never said you wanted—wanted to move here after college.”

“I—I’m not good at words. With words. You know that.” Woojin glances at Jihoon. “I kissed you. Didn’t that tell you what you needed to know?”

“Obviously not.”

“Obviously not? What the fuck do you mean obviously not?”

“I kissed you back. Did that not tell you everything you needed to know?”

Woojin tightens his hold on the steering wheel as he rolls to a stop at a red light. “You told me that if I wasn’t leaving, there was a lot you’d say. And I told you I wanted to hear it, and you told me to make you. So I kissed you. I kissed you because I’d wanted to kiss you like all year. I kissed you because I was in love with you. I kissed you because I was hoping you’d tell me you loved me, too. And right when you were going to tell me whatever it is you were going to say, Donghan walked in on us. Then you got up and you left and you didn’t even say goodbye.”

“I didn’t want it to be goodbye.”

“I didn’t want it to be goodbye, either, and that’s why I failed my first quarter at Yale. That’s the only reason I didn’t graduate summa cum laude. Because I would’ve rather failed my way out of Yale to be with you than be at Yale without you. And fuck it, I still feel that way. So tell me what you were going to say back then.”

Jihoon swallows. “I didn’t want you to go.”

“That’s all?”

“And I was in love with you. And you know what? God damnit, Woojin. Fuck my professor. Do you really think I wouldn’t apply to PhD programs because of what one dumbshit asshole racist professor thinks? Fuck no. I didn’t apply to PhD programs because I didn’t want to move. Because I was fucking hoping that you’d come back someday. And I wanted to be here when you did. I was waiting for you. I’ve been waiting for you.”

A car honks behind them because the light’s green and Woojin missed the change. He eases onto the gas as he reaches over and takes Jihoon’s hand into his own and gives it a squeeze.

“I love you,” Woojin says. “I never stopped loving you.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Jihoon looks up to the ceiling of the car to ignore the way his eyes were watering. “I never stopped loving you either. Are you happy now? I’m stupid in love with you. Thanks for bringing me down to your level.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I hate you.”

Woojin just chuckles. “You’re not going to hate me once we get back to my place and we finish what we started.”

“You’re going to have to work real fucking hard for that.”

“Oh, I will.” Woojin lifts Jihoon’s hand to his lips and kisses each of Jihoon’s knuckles. “And for the record, we could just apply to the same schools. Let’s look into it tomorrow. After we sleep in. And after we make breakfast.”

Jihoon is not blushing. “Say those three words again.”

“Which ones?” Woojin is smirking in that way he does when he’s teasing Jihoon.

“You know which ones.”

“I love you?”

Jihoon presses his cheek to the window. “Again.”

“I love you, Park Jihoon.”

“Again.”

“Isn’t it your turn?”

“Not yet. Again, Park Woojin.”

“I’m so fucking in love with you, Park Jihoon.”

“I’m so fucking in love with you, too, you idiot.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_...ᴏɴᴇ ʏᴇᴀʀ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ_

It only takes them a month to settle into their new apartment with their combined unpacking skills. Also they have motivation. Then it only takes them a week to get everything they need to finally welcome a new member into their household, and then that weekend, they are in the car and on their way to their local shelter.

They let the staff lead them into the kennel, and although they are both determined to say hello to every dog before they make a choice, they both stop at the same time.

“What about this one?” Jihoon asks the staff.

“He’s really sweet,” he says, “but a bit of a handful. Is this your first dog…?”

“We’ll be fine,” Woojin says. “Can we maybe spend some time with him?”

“Of course. Give me a moment to grab the keys.”

They don’t need to spend time with the pup to know he’s the one. It’s the way that he looks up at them and smiles, quirks his head and wags his tail when they talk. They know.

“What do you think for a name?” Woojin asks, pressing his arm into Jihoon’s.

“Saïd.”

“God, I can tell you’re a grad student. Gross.”

“You’re gross.”

Woojin steals a kiss. “Then that makes you gross, too.”

Their hands find each other. Their fingers entwine.

 

 

⧖

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pretty sure i redeemed myself with this one  
> now on to the sequel for the summer they spent lost. look out for it in the next few weeks!


	5. a ring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise, there's one more chapter! for Woojin's birthday, I thought I'd get him the best gift he could ever receive.

if the hurt comes  
so will the happiness  
_be patient_ \- rupi kaur

 

_...ᴛᴡᴏ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ_

 

Jihoon wakes up in Woojin’s arms, sunlight cascading into their bedroom and falling over his still sleeping face. Jihoon will never get tired of this scene—Woojin’s unguarded, tan face glowing in the morning sun, mouth slightly ajar to show his snaggletooth, and Saïd snuggled up between them on her back, belly asking for pets. This is love. And this is his life now.

Thursdays mean morning class for Jihoon and afternoon class for Woojin, so Jihoon always wakes up first on these days. He climbs out of bed, and Saïd glances at him as she wonders whether she wants to make him take her potty.

“Come on,” Jihoon says.

She gets up and follows him out of the bedroom. He slips on shoes and takes her out. She circles her favorite patch of grass, no leash necessary, and does her business. Then she finds the newspaper at the end of the driveway and delivers it to Jihoon’s hand. Once inside, she darts back to the bedroom to continue keeping Woojin warm.

As much as Jihoon would like to join them, he has a birthday breakfast to prepare because Woojin, the stubborn asshole, made reservations at their favorite restaurant months ago for his birthday dinner and also managed to convince Daehwi to visit for the week so lunch is taken. Breakfast is all he can surprise him with today. That is, besides a ring, which is conveniently hiding at Donghan and Sanggyun’s because Woojin is a sneaky fucker who’d definitely find it if he hid it here.

Thankfully, Woojin’s mom shared all her breakfast recipes with Jihoon already, so he gets to work making his favorite Korean-style breakfast. By the time Woojin is awake, Jihoon is done preparing and has also taken a shower, gotten dressed, set out food for Saïd, and read the newspaper front to back.

Woojin stops in his tracks when he sees the spread. “Whoa.”

“It is your birthday,” Jihoon points out, sipping some coffee. “Did you think I wasn’t going to make you breakfast on your birthday? Don’t be crass.”

“I—” Woojin is always a little stupid in the morning, so all he can do is shuffle to the table. Instead of sitting down, he wraps his arms around Jihoon’s shoulders. “I love you.”

“Yeah, you’ve made that clear now. Sit, sit.” Jihoon gives him a hug back, but then shoves him away. When he’s sat, Jihoon says, “Eat. I need to leave soon.”

“Oh, right, you have a morning class.” Woojin sighs, then he picks up his chopsticks and starts dishing himself up. “I can’t believe you made all of this? This is all my favorite food?”

“That would be the point, birthday babe.”

Woojin shoots him a look. “Birthday babe?”

“That’s what I said, birthday muffin.”

Woojin looks ready to respond to that one, too, but seems to decide against it. He starts eating, and Jihoon can’t help but smile at the way he melts. His mouth full, he says, “This tastes like my mom’s cooking? Did you—?”

“Yes, of course I did, birthday cupcake.”

“Fuck, I love you so much.” Woojin inhales the food, now, and by the time Jihoon has to leave, he’s eaten at least three helpings worth. He stops only to walk Jihoon to the door and give him a hug and wish him a good day.

“I can’t believe you do this every damn day,” Jihoon says in his arms.

Woojin grins. He kisses him again. “I can’t help it. Don’t forget that I’m picking Daehwi and Jinyoung from the airport and heading straight to lunch. Then I’ll be in class and it’ll be up to you to keep them entertained until dinner.”

“I got it.” Jihoon leans in and gives him a kiss back. “See you soon, birthday sweetheart.”

“I kind of like that one.”

“Well, I hate to disappoint, but they only get more ridiculous from here.”

“Do you have a list or something?”

“Fuck yes I do.”

“How many did you come up with?”

“Not telling, birthday sugar.”

Woojin curls his lip at that one, and Jihoon barely manages to escape his fist.

 

 

Jihoon is happy to see Daehwi. When he visited Woojin and Jihoon back when they lived in Seattle, they’d clicked pretty much immediately. It’d be impossible for Jihoon to dislike someone who has as much sass as he has wit. They hug, and Jihoon makes sure to give him a big kiss on each cheek.

“Okay, now introduce me to your boyfriend,” Jihoon demands, pulling away from Daehwi and facing the boy Daehwi brought along. He’s tall, but not necessarily thin. His build seems athletic under his t-shirt and jeans. His head is small, and Jihoon would be blind not to notice the kid’s good looking as hell.

“I’m Bae Jinyoung,” he says, offering his hand to shake. Once they do, everyone takes a seat at the table and picks up the menus to browse.

“Don’t hassle him, hyung.” Daehwi pouts at Jihoon, then turns a scowl at Woojin. “Woojin already did enough damage for one day.”

Woojin just grins beside Jihoon.

“I don’t mind,” Jinyoung says. He ducks his head a little. “I didn’t come here thinking I wouldn’t get interrogated at least a little.”

“I’m not going to harass him or anything,” Jihoon says. “I’m not Woojin.”

“Good. Thank you, hyung.” Daehwi takes Jinyoung’s hand under the table, but it’s obvious what he did. Especially when Jinyoung smiles softly and glances over at him as if Daehwi is his entire world and even just holding his hand makes him fall deeper in love with him.

Jihoon approves.

“So dinner tonight,” Daehwi says.

“Right.” Woojin leans back in his chair. “We’re going to my favorite restaurant in town. Actually, Jihoon’s the one that found it. He had us go there for our first anniversary. It’s won some awards or something, but the food is incredible. And I’m buying.”

“What?” Jihoon turns a look at him. “It’s your birthday. I’m buying.”

“I made the reservations. And why would I make you pay for Daehwi, Jinyoung, and my parents? That’s—”

“Why would I make you pay for Donghan and Kuanlin and my parents?”

Woojin frowns. “Donghan?”

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? He’s in town for some tech conference thing.” Actually, no, he’s in town to bring over the ring Jihoon picked out two years ago because when he saw it, he knew it was Woojin. And his best friend wouldn’t miss Jihoon proposing to Woojin for the world. “So just let me pay.”

“No, I’m paying.” He levels Jihoon with his best stare, one that says he’s willing to sleep a week on the couch to get what he wants.

Jihoon tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes back at Woojin, because he doubts Woojin could last a week on the couch. When he doesn’t seem to agree, Jihoon readies his fist because that always seems to do the trick.

“Wow, don’t kill each other,” Daehwi says. “Just split the check.”

“No,” Woojin starts.

“That’d be stupid,” Jihoon agrees.

“I’m paying,” Woojin says. “I’ve been saving up for like a year. It’s my fucking birthday and _I want to pay for my goddamn birthday dinner_ so shut the fuck up and let me do what I want.”

Jihoon growls, but he can’t fight that argument. But. Wait. “A year? Who saves up to pay for their birthday dinner a year in advance?”

“I-I mean.” Woojin licks his lips. Jihoon does not miss the way his eyes dart to Daehwi for a second, or the way his jaw clenches when he realizes he’s on his own here. “I’ve been saving for a year, is what I mean. Not just for the dinner or anything. Okay?”

“You’re stupid,” Jihoon decides. “Birthday stupid.”

At that, Woojin chuckles. He takes Jihoon’s hand and kisses the back of it. “I deserve that. You’ll let me pay, though?”

“If letting you squander away your savings will make my birthday honey happy, sure.”

“Thank you.” He kisses his hand again and then lets go, probably because Daehwi is looking several shades of disgusted.

“You two are way worse than when I saw you last,” Daehwi says. “You’re both stupid. And the saddest part is neither of you have _any idea_ how stupid you are.”

Daehwi knows, of course, that Jihoon plans to propose tonight. Why else would he be so easy to convince to waste money visiting them, waste money missing work, and drag his boyfriend with him? Proposing to Woojin on his birthday is the least stupid thing Jihoon could do.

Woojin waves a hand. “Let’s order. I need to get out of here in an hour so I can make it to class on time.” He sits up to look for the waiter.

Daehwi, in that moment, rolls his eyes at them both. “Jinyoung hyung, let’s not be like them.”

Jinyoung chuckles.

Jihoon no longer approves.

 

 

After lunch, Jihoon drives them to the AirBnB where they’re staying, which is just down the street from where Woojin and Jihoon live. Then he takes them to his place so they can hang around for a while with Saïd.

“Are you sure tonight’s the night?” Daehwi asks, watching Jinyoung play fetch with Saïd down the hallway that leads to Jihoon and Woojin’s bathroom and bedroom. “Thanksgiving or Christmas could be good, too, you know. You could do it back home, invite more of your friends.”

“I didn’t invite friends because I wanted to,” Jihoon says. “Donghan would’ve spent an hour crying at me on the phone if he found out I proposed without him being there, and Kuanlin has a particular talent of getting me to give him what he wants. And my parents. They’re going to be so annoying. Add more of our friends? Even worse. I think Woojin would agree.”

“I mean, yeah, but then just plan a party afterwards and invite everyone to that instead.”

Jihoon snorts. “Did Woojin tell you he wouldn’t accept my proposal or something?”

“No, absolutely not, nothing like that.” Daehwi sighs. “His birthday is just important to him, is all.”

“I know,” Jihoon says. He pulls his knees to his chest and hugs them. “That’s why it’s the perfect day to propose. I’ve been trying to figure out the perfect day for a year now. Thanksgiving is already so hectic because we only get a few days off and it’s at the end of the quarter. Add in the proposal and the amount of drinking we’re going to do afterwards—oh, and the sex—we’ll both be fucked for finals. Christmas isn’t bad, but then it doesn’t feel special at all. Everyone proposes on Christmas.”

“Alright, alright. I get it. So do you have the ring? Can I see it?”

“Donghan has it. If I had it, Woojin would definitely find it, so I’ll have him bring it with him to dinner and then give it to me right before I ask him—” The words get stuck in Jihoon’s throat, along with his whole fucking heart. He reddens. “—ask him to marry me. Holy shit, I’m really going to propose to him.”

Daehwi laughs. “Yes, that’s your plan, hyung.”

Jihoon hides his face in his arms. “It is, isn’t it.” He takes a few deep breaths, then he passes Daehwi the remote. “I’m going to hop in the shower and start getting ready. Woojin’s going to stop by and pick you up, right? I have to grab Donghan and Kuanlin.”

“Yeah. I’ll text him a reminder. No need to worry about us.”

Jihoon gets up, ruffles Daehwi’s hair, then heads to the bathroom. He showers, puts on cologne, dresses in a pair of black dress pants, dress shoes, and a nice white button-down shirt. Daehwi plays with his hair for a while, getting it just perfect, then sends him off with a hug.

“You’ll do great, hyung.”

Jinyoung, behind him, smiles. “Good luck, hyung.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you two soon.”

With that, he heads out into traffic.

 

 

After picking up Donghan, they hang out at Kuanlin’s place for a few. Kuanlin’s in Jihoon's cohort at school. He was the first friend he made here, and so they grew pretty close pretty fast. Kuanlin's place is like a second home to him, but today, it doesn't matter. He's still nervous as all hell. He'd just go, but Jihoon doesn’t want to get there too early. It’d be best if they could arrive at the same time as Woojin. Or at least, it’d be best for his nerves.

“I’ve never seen you this nervous,” Kuanlin points out. He puts a hand on Jihoon’s knee and gives it a reassuring squeeze. He’s dressed in all black and has his hair slicked back and a part of Jihoon wished he didn’t look so good because what if Jihoon doesn’t look _as good_ next to him. That is, of course, the nerves talking. “It’s going to be great, hyung.”

Donghan looks over Jihoon’s features. “You’re sure you want to do it tonight?”

“Yes, hyung. For fuck’s sake. Yes.”

“What if I told you I forgot the ring?” Donghan bites the edge of his glass of whisky.

“I’d kill you and pay Kuanlin for the fee it’d take to clean your blood out of his carpet. Don’t fuck with me. It’s in your pocket.” Jihoon’s hand goes to Donghan’s left hip, where a shape of a small box pokes out from the wrinkles in his pants from sitting.

Donghan grins. “You didn’t feel any sense of relief, though, when I said that?”

“No, I immediately wanted to put my fist in your face. Why do you think I shouldn’t do it tonight? Daehwi literally asked me the same question."

“Maybe it’s because you look so nervous. I haven’t seen you this stressed out either. Especially about something that you don’t need to stress about. You talked about marriage?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“And you know he’ll say yes?”

“Yes.”

“Then what’s there to worry about?”

Jihoon covers his face with his hands and rests his elbows on his knees. “I don’t know.”

“Isn’t it just because you love him, hyung?” Kuanlin puts a hand on Jihoon’s back, rubs tiny circles between his shoulder blades.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” Donghan says, “I’m pretty sure he loves you, too. And I guess when you propose, you’ll see just how much. You have nothing to worry about. Woojin’s a great guy. You’re perfect together.”

“Yeah.” Jihoon takes a few steadying breaths, then sits up. “Yeah, let’s go. I can’t wait here anymore. Hopefully Woojin remembers the fake service dog vest we got so Saïd can come.”

“Fake service dog vest?” Kuanlin asks.

“Like hell I’d propose to Woojin without Saïd there.”

 

 

Jihoon’s parents are already there when they arrive. Jihoon specifically requested a private room in the back and gave the restaurant strict orders not to do anything fancy although they know Jihoon will be proposing at dinner. They did a good job, thankfully. The room is cozy. There’s exactly ten chairs. There’s a water bowl for Saïd, already filled. Somehow, Jihoon’s favorite flowers are in the middle of the table, though he didn’t ask for them specifically.

“Honey,” Jihoon’s mom says, opening her arms for a hug. “We’re so excited for you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Jihoon returns her embrace. His dad pats a hand on his back. He’s not a man of much words, but that’s enough to let Jihoon know he’s excited, too.

They don’t have to wait long for Woojin’s parents to arrive. After Jihoon gives them hugs and thanks them for coming, he lets his parents catch up with Woojin’s.

Then Woojin arrives. He’s in all black, but he’s wearing a white tie. His pants are just tight enough that Jihoon knows his ass looks amazing. He’s rolled up the cuffs of his shirt. It looks like Daehwi spent some time on his hair as well, because it’s perfectly tousled. When his eyes fall on Jihoon, he smiles. Jihoon returns it.

Saïd is in her vest, trailing behind him on leash.

“You thought I’d forget the vest, huh,” Woojin says as he reaches Jihoon. His eyes search his face, then both his hands go up to the top of his shirt. He works to button up one of the two buttons Donghan managed to pop over before they left Kuanlin’s place.

Jihoon swats his hands away and unbuttons it. “Maybe.”

Woojin kisses the corner of his mouth. “You look too good.”

“I look as good as I normally do.”

“But usually I don’t want to immediately undress you when I see you.”

“Wow.” Jihoon gives him a shove. “That’s got to be a lie.”

Woojin chuckles, takes Jihoon’s hand. “Let’s sit.”

Once everyone’s seated, the appetizers come out. Woojin spent hours figuring out what exactly he wanted to come out and when, and even more time being frustrated that Jihoon didn’t exactly care about either particular detail. Jihoon likes food, period, and as long as it’s in front of him, he’s happy.

Conversation is easy at the table. There’s a lot of alcohol and even more laughter. Woojin finally gets to hear the story of how Jihoon’s parents met, and Jihoon learns how Woojin’s parents met. Then it’s Donghan’s turn to talk about how he met Sanggyun and the entirely too long courtship process he had to go through to get him to agree to go out on a date. Daehwi shares how he virtually stalked Jinyoung for half a year when Jinyoung was in fact stalking him the whole time as well. Then Woojin is complaining about school and Jihoon is complaining about school, too, but before they can get into their age-old debate about who has it worse, Woojin’s dad thanks Jihoon for convincing Woojin to try vet school one more time.

“This birthday darling of mine was always going to try again,” Jihoon says, turning to look at Woojin and smiling. “He just needed to be in the right place in his life.”

“And I needed you,” Woojin says.

This seems like the right time, so Jihoon slaps Donghan’s thigh under the table and holds open his palm for the box. “I have another present for you.”

“You mean besides the fake service dog vest? I don’t think you can top that.”

When he feels velvet smooth against his life lines, Jihoon takes a big breath. All of his nerves are gone. This feels right. Woojin feels right. He holds the box between them and cracks it open to reveal a simple gold band.

“I was hoping I could make my birthday boyfriend my birthday fiancé. Will you ma—”

“What.” Woojin frowns. “No.”

“What do you mean _no_?” His heart drops to his stomach. A ball swells in his throat, and he has to push through it to continue talking. “Park Woojin, I just tried to fucking propose to you and you just said _no?_ To my face? I’m—” His voice just stops working.

“No, no, no.” Woojin puts a hand over the box. “No.”

Jihoon cannot see past the tears blurring his vision. When Woojin wraps his arms around his shoulders, all he wants to do is rip out of them. He rests his forehead against Jihoon’s.

“Jihoon,” he says softly. “Jihoon, look. Look.”

There is another box. This one is in Woojin’s palm. There is a gold ring in it, a little thinner than the one Jihoon picked out for Woojin.

“You’re not allowed to propose to me first on my goddamn birthday,” Woojin says. “I didn’t save for a year to propose to you at the restaurant we went to on our first anniversary for you to propose first. I didn’t beg Daehwi to come down here for you to propose first. I didn’t ask your parents for your hand in marriage so you’d _ask me for mine first_. That’s not allowed. No.”

“You’re an asshole.”

Woojin groans, and he wipes away Jihoon’s tears as they fall. “Park Jihoon, there is nothing more than I want for my birthday than you. Marry me.”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I bought this ring two years ago. I talked Donghan into keeping it for me so you wouldn’t find it. I convinced him to come so I’d have the ring for this exact day. I called _your_ parents and asked if I could propose. I don’t know why I’m not allowed to propose to you on your birthday. That’s stupid. You’re stupid.”

Silence falls over the table.

“But I’ll still marry your stupid ass,” Jihoon says, and a big grin spreads over Woojin’s face. He leans in and starts kissing him, one peck, two pecks, three pecks. “I can’t fucking believe you told me no just so you could ask me first. You’re so stupid.”

“I love you.” Woojin slides the ring onto Jihoon’s finger.

Jihoon slides the ring onto Woojin’s. “I’m going to do the vows first at the wedding. That’s the only way I can forgive you for this.”

“…We’ll talk.”

“No.”

“Wow,” Daehwi says, “just shut up already so we can congratulate you.”

Then the room fills with applause. Jihoon’s mom and Woojin’s mom are both crying. Jihoon thinks maybe Woojin’s dad’s eyes are a little watery as well. Kuanlin is cheering and pouring everyone more alcohol and calling for the cake to come out. Donghan is patting them both on the back and giving them kisses on the cheek. Daehwi is muttering about how stupid they both are.

“How could you not notice? You were both so obvious. At one point, I was almost convinced you both actually _knew_ and that’s why you were both absolute wrecks. But now I’m sure. You are both denser than dense.” Then he turns to Jinyoung and explains they can’t be that way.

Jinyoung agrees.

Woojin and Jihoon hold hands the rest of the dinner. They go home that night with Saïd with a smile on their lips. When they’re ready for bed, they turn into each other’s arms.

“Goodnight, fiancé,” Woojin says, kissing Jihoon’s forehead. “I love you.”

“Goodnight, birthday fiancé. I love you, too.”

 

 

∞

**Author's Note:**

> also feel free to follow me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/slackeuse) or send me questions on [cc](https://curiouscat.me/slackeuse).


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